


oh, my love, my darling

by jacobby



Series: hungered for your touch [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 02:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21367045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacobby/pseuds/jacobby
Summary: Richie Tozier has dealt with many crises that changed him as a man.Now, Eddie might argue that he’s nowhere near being a man, becausereal men wash their socks and clean their hair at least once a day, he actually hears Eddie say in his squeaky voice, with those large brown eyes looking at him with disgust, mixed with just a little bit of amusement hiding behind grated teeth fighting a grin.And you aren’t a man, Richie Tozier.And then Richie would rebut that being sixteen years old is enough of a criteria to be a man.Oh, and that’s not what your mom said when I fucked her last night, Eds.--AKA: Richie Tozier comes out, one Loser at a time.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Everyone
Series: hungered for your touch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540414
Comments: 9
Kudos: 256





	oh, my love, my darling

**Author's Note:**

> welp, here it is finally! chapter 2 completely devoured me and now i don't think i can move on. so here's my offering to you all. i've been obsessed with reddie ever since, and lemme tell you i cried really really hard. my friends were laughing at me (good-naturedly, mind you). 
> 
> i hope you have fun reading it as much i did writing this. my first fic for IT, and it was such a joy exploring the characters. 
> 
> un-beta'd, though i did go over it several times. feel free to alert me of any misspellings and other minor stuff. 
> 
> ENJOY!!!

> 1\. Stanley Uris

Richie Tozier has dealt with many crises that changed him as a man. 

Now, Eddie might argue that he’s nowhere near being a man, because _ real men wash their socks and clean their hair at least once a day, _ he actually hears Eddie say in his squeaky voice, with those large brown eyes looking at him with disgust, mixed with just a little bit of amusement hiding behind grated teeth fighting a grin. _ And you aren’t a man, Richie Tozier. _

And then Richie would rebut that being sixteen years old is enough of a criteria to be a man. Oh, and _ that’s not what your mom said when I fucked her last night, Eds. _

Which will probably earn him a punch on the shoulder that won’t really hurt, or a chokehold that’ll end up more of a hold than a choke. Richie isn’t complaining.

But that...that isn’t really the point. 

In fact, Richie isn’t quite sure what the point is anymore. Not since entering and almost dying in a crackhouse, because, for once in his life, his friends were more of a moron than he is, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not since roughhousing a killer clown that ate kids and lived down in the sewers, because, apparently, Derry is just _ that _ fucked up. Not to mention, having said friends convince him to slice his fucking palm open with a glass shard they found on the ground. Because all promises just _ have _ to be fucking blood oaths, _ right, Bill? _

Just when Richie was sure he has lived through something that should have killed him, lived through fear turned to courage turned to hitting a monster with a bat, something else ups and ruins his bravado. 

Today, it’s Stanley Uris. And he crumbles Richie’s foundations when he gives him this _ Look. _

It’s a look that he is all too familiar with, something that he should have already taken for granted years ago. Yet, he still manages to find a tiny detail that makes the way Stan hold his expression radically different, and Richie isn’t quite sure if this is Stan purposefully making the difference as clear as day, or if Richie is just way more observant now than he was when they first met. 

He doesn’t really take Stan as a judgemental person. He _ is _ very critical of people when it comes down to it. But that’s only because Stan is smart. He only does what’s necessary for him to do, and sometimes that’s to pull his friends’ heads out of their asses because one of them decides to take playing here a little too seriously, _ right, Bill? _

Years of friendship meant a shitton of these ‘I’m judging you’ look (all of them coming from Stan. What can he say? Stan has perfected the art of silent criticism), and all the Losers had their fair share.

There’s the ‘I can’t believe those words just came out of your mouth’ Look, which Richie often shares with Bill. Richie takes up one end of the spectrum, mostly by saying the dumbest shit he doesn’t even have the time to think about. Bill takes up the other end, the end that represents words that make sense when put together but still sounding so fucking insane his friends don’t really have much of a choice but to agree. 

Then there’s the ‘Is that you I’m smelling right now?’ Look, which Richie shares with no one. 

And the ‘You’re going to fucking die if you keep this up’ Look, which Richie shares with _ everyone. _Even Stan himself. 

Then there’s one that’s reserved for him and Eddie: the ‘if you and Eddie don’t fucking shut up right this second, I will lock you both in a closet and I’m swallowing the key’ Look. Which doesn’t work because both Eddie and Richie are incapable of shutting up, although it is something Richie isn’t exactly opposed to, either. 

But this new _ Look _. Oh boy. Richie doesn’t even know where to begin with this one. For starters, he knows it’s reserved for him and him alone. And it’s got layers to it that Richie is afraid of unraveling without unraveling himself in the process. 

‘I’m judging you,’ the Look says, just like they always do, ‘but I’m judging you for an entirely different reason, Trashmouth. I hope you understand and I sincerely hope you find the guts one day.’ 

Richie swallows, thick and loud. 

Stan finally blinks and goes back to making their Science project. He opens his mouth to speak. 

And before he does, during the silence in the one second when Stan draws in a breath, Richie’s mind rudely supplies for him everything that Stan can possibly say next, ranging between the opposite extremes of hateful and accepting. None of which sound that much like Stan. 

Richie’s personal favorite is ‘wow, Richie, me too! Can’t believe we have so much in common.’ Only because, if their battle with Pennywise showed them anything, it was that there is strength in numbers. And Richie could use all the strength he could gather right about now. 

‘I accept you, Richie. You’re my best friend in the whole wide world. I love you’ is a close second, though Richie can’t really fathom the kind of face Stan will make while saying it. 

His least favorite, and the least likely for Stan to say, is something straight out of Henry Bowers’s mouth. 

Words he’d been doing his best not to think about. 

What Stan actually says is “okay,” in that deadpan sort of, nonchalant sort of, ‘this really isn’t news to me, Trashmouth’ sort of way. “Get back to work. You being gay isn’t gonna finish our Science project.” 

Richie can’t comprehend how Stan manages to sound so supportive but also so wanting Richie to fuck off at the same time. So Richie doesn’t bother thinking and, instead, goes back to work. 

> 2\. Beverly Marsh

He knows there are limits to upholding his title as Trashmouth. The one elephant (or the lack thereof) in the clubhouse he never dares mention is the absence of one Beverly Marsh. And it isn’t just the absence of her physical self, because it’s one thing to move out of Derry with the hopes of finding a better life. And really, Bev deserves that better than any of them if Richie has anything to say about it. 

No, it’s the absence of her everything else altogether. 

They stopped calling her at some point two years ago, when Bill decided to throw a fit after their last private conversation, telling them that Beverly wanted to be left alone for the time being, that she didn’t want to talk to any of them, that she was moving on to new things with her life. 

It was odd, Richie thought, and confusing. But he dismissed it as a lover’s quarrel of sorts.

Which, in hindsight, is probably the underestimation of the century. 

They don’t even talk about her, anymore. Any mentions of Beverly are shut down by either Bill or Ben. 

Now, Richie breathes in and then out, slow and steady, counting from one to ten in his head to calm his nerves. He clutches the telephone in his hand, and he tells himself that what he’s doing isn’t wrong. He’s allowed to seek Bev out for his own personal reasons, Bill be damned. 

“Hello?” an elderly voice comes.

Richie’s breath hitches. “May I speak with Beverly Marsh, please?” He sounds stiff, like he’s been caught doing something really, really bad. He wants to believe he isn’t. 

There’s a pause. “Just a moment. May I ask who this is?” 

“Uh, yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck. It’s warm. “It’s Richie. Richie Tozier.” 

He can hear the shuffling of feet and the same voice calling out for Bev. 

After what seemed like forever, the phone rustles, and a ‘hello?’ comes through. 

“Hey, Molly Ringwald,” he manages, though it sounds strained. If Bev didn’t want to talk to him before, she really wouldn’t want to now. “It’s Rich.”

“Rich?” Bev asks. 

For a moment, Richie perks up at the sound of Bev. Then, his heart sinks at how uncomfortable she seems. Like she was saying ‘Rich? Who the fuck is Rich?’ 

“Hello? Look, if this is some kind of prank, I’m hanging up,” Bev says after a beat of silence. 

Richie tenses at that, and almost hangs up the call, if not for the obvious confusion in Bev’s voice. Like she’s actually forgotten. Like she actually _ doesn’t remember. _

And Richie, he doesn’t know what to make of that. He’d make a joke right about now, if not for fear and hurt trying to fight for the top spot at the forefront of his mind. So he focuses on the reason why he called in the first place. 

He focuses on courage. 

If Bev truly forgot about him, then the less he has to worry about the word spreading.

Not that he doesn’t trust Bev, or that he thinks she’s going to spread his secret when she gets her shit sorted out. And he most certainly doesn’t think that Bev forgetting—or pretending to forget—about him, about any of them, is anything to celebrate. 

But he also doesn’t quite trust himself anymore. And he’ll latch on to pretty much anything that’ll give him an easy out, pun intended. 

“I’m gay,” he whispers, and, despite his entire body fighting against it, he hangs up.

> 3\. Michael Hanlon

Mike and Richie are waiting by the Kissing Bridge for their friends. It’s a little odd. They have never been alone together like this 

Eddie usually bikes with Richie since Richie always stops by at Eddie’s to pick him up, whether Eddie asked him to or not. It’s their little unspoken rule; a ritual that they and the rest of the Losers just kind of came to accept without question. 

Today wasn’t supposed to be any different. Richie stopped by, and called for Eddie. Eddie came out, panting and sweaty, like he just ran a marathon. He was out of breath when he tells Richie that Richie needs to leave, and that it’s important he left _ immediately _ . That Eddie would be there at the clubhouse, one way or another, but it was important that Richie _ leave, now. _

It had Mrs. K written all over it. 

So Richie left, afraid he’d do more damage than help if he imposed himself. 

Now, he’s with Mike. Calm, cool, and collected Mike, humming a tune in harmony with the wind. 

And Richie, drawing in a deep breath, realizes it’s now or never. 

He finds that it isn’t difficult. And he isn’t really sure what’s giving him the courage to speak. 

Maybe it’s how peaceful the Kissing Bridge is. Ever since Pennywise and Bowers decided to fuck off, the air smells a lot less like death. Or maybe it’s just because of Mike, and Richie can see how much Mike is in tune with peace. That peace suits him.

“So,” he says carefully, “I’m gay.” 

Mike simply smiles and nods. 

Richie is eternally grateful.

> 4\. William Denbrough

Eddie slips away from the girls that crowded him by the buffet table, two cups of punch finally in hand with just a little bit spilling over the rim as he hurries away. He approaches the rest of the Losers by the bleachers just as another girl from a different group follows him. 

It’s that girl who has a crush on Eddie, Richie recognizes, though he doesn’t remember her name for the life of him, and he outright refuses to out of spite. 

Eddie hands Richie a glass of punch, and Richie smiles at him in thanks. He downs everything, hoping for a buzz even though he’s completely aware how alcohol-free the drink is. Times like these he wishes he isn’t so much of a wuss and brought actual booze to prom, just like how he and Ben had been talking about for months now. Only if Stan and Eddie weren’t so much of a nag, they would’ve gotten their way. 

“So, Spaghetti Man finally decides to join us peasants,” Richie says, just as the girl behind Eddie asks him for a dance. 

“Beep, beep, Richie.” Eddie pulls a face at him, then turns around and smiles at the girl. He had the decency, at least, to look a little embarrassed, though it’s mixed with a constipated sort of expression. 

Richie doesn’t blame him. Girls are a tough nut to crack. 

“Sorry,” Eddie says, “I’m not really looking to dance right now.” 

The girl frowns at Eddie but reassures him that it’s no big deal.

Richie sees right through her. Takes one to know another face pining after Eddie.

She tries her luck with Bill, who, since she isn’t Bev, also declines just as quickly as Eddie did.

“Y-you’re playing kind of h-hard to get tonight, E-eds.”

“I’m only getting half the invitations you are, and you’re still not dancing with anyone,” Eddie replies. “You’re gonna give Richie a complex.” 

“Hey!” He slings an arm around Eddie’s neck and ruffles his hair. “Trashing the Trashmouth so early in the night, aren’t we, Spagheds?”

“Oh my god, get off of me, Richie. I swear to god, you’re gonna ruin my look.” Eddie pushes him off, earning an ‘oof’ from Richie as he steps to the side. 

Bill laughs. “W-we promised each other w-we’d go as g-g-group,” he says, eyeing Stan as he does. “If one of us is-isn’t getting any a-action, th-then none of us is.” 

Stan rolls his eyes at him. “Not like Richie’s any better.” 

“Why is everyone ganging up on me tonight? Ben ain’t getting any, either,” Richie retorts. 

Ben only chuckles and shakes his head. 

Their banter turns into silent coversation among each other. They joke around, keeping their voices low, and even dance and bob to the rhythm of the music playing in the background. 

It isn’t when the song had a change of beat—from the quick disco beats to something more slow, more intimate—that Richie takes a good look at Eddie. 

_ ‘Oh, my love’ _

He turns his head and meets Eddie’s eyes. 

_ ‘My darling’ _

Neither of them look away. 

_ ‘I’ve hungered for your touch’ _

Eddie’s shoulder is touching Richie’s. Eddie’s one hand holding an empty cup, the other in the pocket of his black slacks. His back is a little straighter than he usually carries himself, the dark red of his suit jacket accentuating how dapper he looks tonight. He would be the epitome of a gentleman if he didn’t look so stiff. Or if he didn’t completely surrender himself into Richie’s space. 

This is the recipe for disaster Richie isn’t quite ready to cook up just yet. 

_ ‘A long…’ _

But maybe the night has other plans for him. 

_ ‘...lonely time’ _

“Eds,” Richie says, low and breathy. 

Just as he’s about to reach out and tug at the end of Eddie’s sleeve, Samantha Driscoll comes from nowhere and yanks Richie away. “Dance with me, Tozier.” 

Richie, quick as ever to escape any situation that demanded too much of him (like physical contact with people that aren’t Eddie), grabs Eddie’s wrist and does the whole switcheroo, spinning them around and pushing Eddie into the arms of Samantha. She shrugs and drags Eddie away from the rest of the Losers and to the dance floor. 

_ ‘And time goes by so slowly’ _

Richie ducks his head and leans on the wall, arms folded and lips pouting. He feels a shoulder nudge his own. He looks to the side and sees Bill, eyeing Richie with those deep melancholic green eyes of his. 

Dammit, Bill! Now’s not really the time. 

“Guess we’ll give Eddie this one pass, huh?” 

Richie scoffs but remains quiet. 

_ ‘And time can do so much’ _

“If you want, Rich, ask a girl to dance. Our rules are flexible for tonight. Don’t worry so much about that group thing.” Bill offers an honest to god genuine smile, and Richie can’t take it any longer. 

Richie inhales and exhales, shoulder lifting up and down at the gesture. “I’m gay, Big Bill,” he whispers, soft enough that the music drowns it out from the rest of the gym. “Give me a break.” It isn’t spiteful, not really. Bill might even understand what he’s really trying to say. He just sounds a lot more tired than he feels. And he probably is a lot more tired than he wants to be. 

Bill snakes an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. 

Richie leans into the touch. 

He gives Richie a small squeeze and a smile before he lets go and heads back to where Stan and Ben are still sitting quietly by the bleachers. 

Richie waves a hand at them and then searches for Eddie in the crowd. When he spots him, slow dancing awkwardly and trying not to touch Samantha where it isn’t decent, they meet each other’s gazes. 

_ ‘I need your love’ _

Richie gives him a weak grin and a thumbs up. 

_ ‘I need your love’ _

Eddie glares, blaming Richie for his current predicament. 

_ ‘Godspeed your love…’ _

Richie makes a face at him instead, and an ugly snort escapes Eddie’s lips. 

‘_ ...to me’ _

And for tonight, for Richie, that is more than enough. 

> 5\. Benjamin Hanscom

Richie has always felt a gravitational pull towards one Ben Hanscom. 

And no, it isn’t the same pull that Eddie has on him. It isn’t the kind of force that demands attention, close contact, and a whole deal of everything else Richie can’t even describe. 

It’s a lot more on the relatability side of things. Something that says, ‘Hey, I’m exactly like you.’ Something that requires comfort without speaking. Ben is almost a perfect reflection of Richie, and he’s too afraid to look him in the eye for too long should Ben figure him out without Richie even uttering a single word. 

Which is why when Richie exclaims ‘no’ when Ben suggests he throw out the hammock, Ben only smiles and says, “Okay, Richie.” 

The rest of the clubhouse is quiet. It’s just the two of them there that afternoon.

Richie wasn’t sure why no one else showed up earlier, but he thinks he understands a little more now. 

Ben feels the gravitational pull too.

“Ben,” Richie says.

“Yeah, Rich?” 

“I’m gay.”

“Okay,” Ben replies, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you out, you might have to wait a little while longer. You aren’t exactly my first choice.” 

Richie laughs at this, a good hearty laugh he hasn’t had the entire day. “Fuck you, man,” he says. “Fuck you.” 

> 6\. Edward Kaspbrak

Eddie opens his bedroom window to let Richie inside. 

Richie shudders at the sight. “God, Eds,” he manages. 

Eddie shrugs. He keeps quiet, eyes glued to the floor devoid of the carpet that covered it for years. Eddie settles down on the bed. Two pillows and a blanket are strewn over it. He fluffs a pillow and lays his head on it, lays his body on top of the blanket. 

Richie cocks his head to the side. He follows Eddie but goes down on the mattress a little harder. _Thud!_ Richie takes a look around. 

The walls are bare, no movie or band poster in sight. No other furniture in the room. No trinkets, no books, no magazines. Richie’s heart sinks. The room that once represented a haven for Richie and Eddie; where they had spent a lot of their teenage lives listening to music, discussing comic book characters, and wrestling and arguing. 

It was once a refuge for Richie after experiencing too many nightmares about Pennywise. And for Eddie who could count on Richie to be there whenever he experienced nightmares of his own. 

Now it’s stripped of every memory, every tiny little detail that made this little space _oh so very Eddie. _

Richie isn’t sure how he’d cope separating from Eddie and his bedroom. He doesn’t want to have to cope. 

“This sucks,” Richie whispers. 

Eddie doesn’t speak. 

“Sorry if I was a little late tonight, Eddie,” Richie says when the silence has become unbearable. “My parents were being a bitch. Asking me to do chores and shit. Plus, my dad confiscated the keys to my car for some fucking reason. And I was telling them to fuck off. I was like, ‘I gotta go see my Spaghetti. Don’t be a bitch.’ Well, I didn’t really say the last part. Could get in more trouble.” Richie raises his hand as if to reach for the light bulb on the ceiling, fingers stretched out as he continues. “I mean, I’m here now, though. So I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. Anyways, pedaled so hard on my bike. I think I’m getting a little too tall, Eds. My knees were hitting everything—”

“I’m leaving, Rich.” Eddie’s voice is so soft, Richie almost misses it. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

Richie frowns. He drops his hand and places it on his chest, clutches at his shirt. His heart feels like it's drowning in acid. “That’s why I’m here tonight, Eddie,” he says. “I’m here with you right now. I’m not going anywhere—”

“I’ll be far away, Rich.” Eddie shifts and turns to Richie, voice cracking at the last word. “From everyone—From—from you.”

Richie turns as well. He faces Eddie. 

Eddie looks at him with a blank face, but the wetness of his eyes betray the nonchalance. 

“I’ll go visit you, Eds,” Richie tries, “I promised you I will.” 

Instead of replying, Eddie grabs the hand on Richie’s chest. 

Despite the mental preparation Richie had made for weeks now, his walls still crumble. There is really nothing that could have possibly prepared him for the pain he is feeling. It’s him who breaks first. His sobs are quiet. He intertwines his fingers with Eddie’s, and uses them to cover his face. 

Eddie follows soon after, and huddles closer with Richie until they could feel each other’s heated breaths. They cry like that for a while, intimate and warm. 

“I’m sorry, Richie,” Eddie apologizes, sounding raw and raspy. “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“Hey,” Richie says reassuringly. He sits up, grip on Eddie’s hand still tight. “Here’s an idea.” 

“What?” 

“I never got to dance. During prom?” 

Eddie pulls his hand back, an eyebrow raised despite the tears still spilling. “Excuse me?” His voice breaks.

“I said I never got to dance,” Richie says. He jumps off the bed, quite dramatically if he does say so himself, and kneels on the floor. “Will you, Eddie Spaghetti, make me the happiest man alive and dance with me?”

Eddie exhales a short laugh. “You’re unbearable, Rich.” 

So they dance. 

They stand in the small space between the bed and the window. Richie grabs his walkman from his backpack and plugs in the headphones. He hands one earbud to Eddie and wears the other one for himself. Richie presses play. 

_ ‘Oh, my love, my darling’ _

“Oh, jeez,” Richie says. 

But Eddie is already swaying to the rhythm, both hands on Richie’s neck, head close to Richie’s chest. “You wanted to dance, asshole. So, dance.” 

_ ‘I’ve hungered for your touch _ _  
_ _ A long, lonely time’ _

“I’d bust out my Patrick Swayze moves on you right now, but your mom might barge in. She just can’t help but find me so irresistible, Eds.” 

“Shut up with the mom jokes, Rich. I’m dancing.” 

_ ‘Time goes by so slowly _ _  
_ _ And time can do so much’ _

Richie tugs Eddie at the waist, pulling him closer.

Eddie stumbles a bit, the side of his face crashing onto Richie’s chest.

_ ‘Are you still mine?’ _

“When you visit, Rich…” Eddie starts.

_ ‘I need your love’ _

“Yeah?”

_ ‘I need your love’ _

“Take me out to a movie. Your treat.” 

_ ‘Godspeed your love…’ _

“Eds…”

_ ‘...to me’ _

As the second verse starts, Richie pushes himself away from Eddie, though Eddie’s arms are still looped around his neck. They stop swaying. 

Eddie looks up at him, frantic. “Uh, no, Rich—sorry, I didn’t mean—” 

“Eddie. I have to tell you something.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie shifts his hands that they cup Richie’s neck instead. 

“I—” _ love you. Want you. Need you. Can’t live without you, Eds. Please stay. Please don’t go. Or better yet, we can run away tonight. Run away forever and ever and never look back. Just you and me. Me and you. Always. Because I— "_I’m gay, Eddie.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t move. Just...looks at Richie. 

“Eddie?” 

Eddie closes the gap between them and sways to the music again. He’s practically hugging Richie at this point, his cheek pressed against Richie’s chest. He could probably hear the hammering of his Richie’s heart. _ Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. _

“Why now?” Eddie asks. 

Richie is, to say the very least, taken aback by the question, but he continues dancing nonetheless. His arms are wrapped around Eddie’s as tightly as Eddie’s are around him. “I’m sorry, Eds.” 

“That’s not an answer. Why—why now?” 

_ ‘And time goes by so slowly’ _

“Why not sooner, Rich? Why not—”

_ ‘And time can do so much’ _

“What?” 

_ ‘Are you still mine?’ _

Then Eddie leans in. Just a little. Only close enough that Richie could feel Eddie’s breath on his nose. “Rich, I—” 

_ ‘I need your love’ _

“Eddie.” A million thoughts cross Richie’s mind. An inhaler, red shorts, brown eyes, a fanny pack. Eddie, brave and wonderful and _ beautiful. _So fucking beautiful. He wants to tell Eddie that he’s beautiful. But what comes out instead is, “Tell me this isn’t a mistake.” 

_ ‘I need your love’ _

“It’s not.” Then Eddie closes the gap and kisses Richie. Just a small peck, and Richie kisses back just as quick. It’s chaste and soft and _ lovely. _

_ ‘Godspeed your love…’ _

“Come back to me, Eds.” It comes out as a sob as he pulls Eddie into his arms. “Promise me, you’ll come back.”

“I promise.” 

‘_ ...to me’ _

**Author's Note:**

> sequel coming soon! i have half of it written, but it'll most likely take me a week to finish. editing is a bitch. kudos and comments are very much appreciated!!! thank you for reading! 
> 
> hit me up on my [tumblr](http://www.jacobbyart.tumblr.com).


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